City Arts Advisory Commission Student Art Exhibit June 7

Celebrating Resilience in the Arts

The COVID -19 pandemic has affected us all, including the arts customs, in unique ways. Each of united states of america has survived this historical period of sickness and healing, loss and life, struggles and accomplishments.

In the summer of 2021 the Arts Advisory Commission (AAC), in partnership with Hamilton Arts Council and as role of the Celebrating Resilience in the Arts project, issued an open phone call to collect fine art works and stories from Hamilton artists that showcase how they have responded to the pandemic.

The following artworks were selected by AAC members from 39 submissions. They include written, visual and performance works that showcase the different means in which artists in Hamilton take constitute hope, strength and courage to pivot, adapt and find healing through their work during these challenging times.

The Big Flick 2022 – Arts Recovery Survey

The Celebrating Resilience the Art survey was conducted from October 28 to November 21, 2021 and 107 local artists responded sharing how they have been afflicted by the pandemic. Review the survey results.

Celebrating Resilience in the Arts - Art Works and Stories

Michael Allgoewer - Small Devices

Artist Bio
Michael Allgoewer is a Hamilton visual artist, exhibiting extensively for 30-five years.

Artist Statement
The "Devices" are minor, mixed media sculptures, produced during the first stage of the pandemic. They function as metaphors for the states of heed of the artist. They bargain with empathy, mendacity, fear and ultimately, transformation and hope.

Michele Paring - healing is cute

Artist Bio
Lived in Hamilton all my life. I am Oneida, Turtle clan. A mother of ii girls and a grandmother of iv. I learned to bead about 7 years ago. I practise all kinds of crafts, but beading is relaxing for me. It is my medicine and meditation.

Darrell Doxtdator - Don't give up 'til yer completely given out

Creative person Bio
Darrell Doxtdator is Tuscarora, role of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. He grew up on the Haudenosaunee territory of the Grand River. Darrell is a self-taught artist who enjoys writing short stories and singing karaoke. His interest in art began in his elementary school years.

Short Story - "Don't give up 'til yer completely given out."
Yes, Totah had an expression for everything. She e'er knew what to say. And ordinarily said it in her ain unique fashion.

(For those not familiar with Kanyen'kéha (too known every bit the Mohawk language), Totah is a term of affection for grandmother.)

Totah was not one for formal English language. She never was taught that. Not at Residential schoolhouse. It didn't teach her much. Except how to hit. And to hate.

Fortunately, she never was much of a student. Those negative lessons never took root.

Totah was a child of nature. She took her lessons from the wild. How to read the signs. Scout for patterns. Remain calm, despite the panic that may exist rising from within. These life lessons made her the stiff person that I knew.

"Watch dem partridges. You'll never see dem. But, they see you. They don't move 'til y'all nearly pace on dem. Dat'due south how they live to see another day."

Aye, she knew nature. She knew it well plenty not to fear it. Respect information technology. Follow its case. Don't be so arrogant as to believe you tin can conquer it. Live in a manner and so that everything will go by.

"Take only whatcha need. No more." Very early on, we were taught the lesson: "the dish with 1 spoon". Go out enough for others. Get out plenty to maintain a sustainable surround. Have only what you need. Share.

"Female parent Earth don't demand us. Nosotros ain't no more than fleas on a domestic dog. Merely we need Mother Globe. Take care of her. Show gratitude for her gifts."

Yes, Totah lived a contented life. She was happy. She never endemic a lot. Nor did she have a slap-up fortune. Merely, she had a wealth of cognition. And the life skills to manage.

"E'er requite what you tin. People already know you're poor. They can see that. They will besides encounter that yous're willing to share. They volition see that too. When y'all lead by instance, others will follow."

Giving what you can. Information technology may non always be much, but it helps twice. It helps the person

receiving your contribution. And information technology helps the person giving. The wounds to the soul are healed with such acts of generosity. And, it may help out a third time. Sometime in the future, you lot may need aid. It will be easier to enquire -- and accept -- when you have helped in the by.

Pandemics are also a part of nature. Every hundred years or and then, a global pandemic grips the population. This time around, it started in China. It spread quickly. It hit Europe difficult. Hospitals were rapidly over-run. And then, the morgues. Constructive medical treatments were evasive. Best efforts were non sufficient. Many died.

Until an effective handling could be developed, older measures were needed. Quarantine. Isolation. Sanitation.

"Follow the example of the partridge. Hunker downwards. That'southward how one will survive." So I did.

During this menstruation, I was asked to illustrate a children's book. Not beingness a professional artist, I cautioned her that I might non be able to run into her expectations. Having seen my piece of work, she knew that I could practice the task. She had greater belief in my emerging abilities than I had in myself.

She runs a program to provide housing for homeless veterans. In appreciation for her piece of work, I gave her a gift. It was her portrait done in color. It was a mixed media of coloured pencil and soft pastel. It was roughly 18" x 12". She loved it.

Just before everything was shut down, I purchased my supplies. Then, I got downward to work. The snow swirled by the windows when I started. Daffodils emerged as I completed the project. Due to the isolation, we had to be artistic in the consultation process. I learned the capacities (and limitations) of my digital photographic camera, laptop reckoner, and my minor cyberspace connection.

She was amazed with the drafts. We discussed revisions. And compromised on the edits.

Illustrating the children'due south book paid the bills. It as well gave me purpose. Not wanting to disappoint my friend drove me to higher levels.

"Plant corn, await corn." The love you share volition be the love you lot yield.

And the forcefulness of the individual can be traced through the generations. And the path volition lead from one strong totah to some other.

Debbie Finn - Where Are My 'Guts'?

Artist Statement
Before the pandemic, this self-taught Hammer Girl painted portraits, landscapes, churches and music. Pretty ones, they made me happy, and that was enough.  But.... I had always been struck by something that I had heard in an interview with the Russian-born (moved to Canada) artist, Paraskeva Clark.   In information technology, she said, "I have also much respect for painting.  It's a serious business…..Information technology has to take guts, some sort of guts and force.".... since and then, I take been haunted past this...where were my "guts"?  What was I trying to say?  I have struggled with this for a long time.

March 2020 establish me paralyzed artistically.    At best, I could create abstracts but they were too busy and frenetic and I felt compelled to gear up them bated.  My Father on the other hand, a retired Surgeon, and my stepmother Wendy, both in their mid eighties,  responded to the call for retired health-care professionals and registered their names  on a reserve list to be called dorsum into action should the need ascend as covid started taking off.  I was so touched by that.  Sadly, Dad was never called, he suffered a massive stroke in June (a delay to go to the hospital due to fear of covid no doubt made this worse) and died on a sunny December morning on 5W at the General Hospital, the covid ward.  Losing someone at a time when the need for human being touch on and connection were and then strong was difficult.  My family was  incredibly grateful for the strangers we met along the fashion...Maria at Baskin-Robbins in Westdale who fabricated Dad'southward strawberry shakes with love, the screeners at the HGH who offered prayers, Dad's roommate Mike who prepared colourful art for us at every visit, and "Sam" whose quiet sacrifices offered our family unit the privacy we needed and the respect Dad deserved.  We were blanketed in support and love.

Although a md's girl, it had never become more articulate to me than and then, the power of the "healers", their cocky-sacrifice and backbone, their ability to push by the exhaustion and fear, to treat each patient with grace and dignity.

Afterwards having witnessed Dad and Wendy's own willingness to sacrifice, and Dad'due south subsequent decease, I sensed a change within me, I think that it was and then, that I began to feel  that I had found Clark's "some sort of strength", what I had to say, in sometimes subtle and not-and then subtle ways.

"The Healers" is for my Dad, and for all wellness-intendance workers.  In that location are iii, walking through the four seasons of covid.  St. Raphael, the patron saint of Healers, pilgrims and happy endings, walks in the heart with both his staff and his fish.  To his right, is a modernistic mean solar day doctor, and to his left, a plague doctor, marking time with the banging of the pulsate.

"The Maker" is based on a vocal by Daniel Lanois.  In this painting, an old couple gaze upon the deep waters, "cold and night as the night"...this couple represents all of those who were lost, our elders, either in long term intendance homes, or lonely, in their ain homes…..they are being called to, and I promise comforted, by Jean Baptiste, who is continuing in the light with the maker.

Winter seems to have been the most challenging for us during covid. "Marking Time" represents a bit of levity, a Mi-Careme of sorts, and depicts 3 minstrels or tricksters to elevator the spirits.

Finally, "Weeping Human", although really quite an ugly painting, is perhaps my favourite.  I pulled out ane of my earlier frenetic paintings, the ones that fabricated no sense, and found a face in the chaos.  In my "healing" I was finally able to face those cast-offs and create something digestible, to me at least.  He is weeping for all of those who lost loved ones during this time, either direct or indirectly because of covid.

How does this fit in with resilience?  I'm not exactly certain, simply I feel that through covid, I was able to not simply detect something that I felt was lacking, but was able to relieve or to at least create something meaningful out of the chaos of covid times.

Will Gillespie - Harder and Harder

Artist Bio
Will Gillespie is a songwriter, guitarist and entertainer, described as an ever-evolving musical chameleon, known for his eclectic songwriting, evocative guitar playing and entertaining alive prove. He is also the author, composer and director of the award-winning musicals "Swingin' in St. John'south" "Diamond in the Rough" and "Martians & Martinis."

Rob Dark-green - Look to the Light-A Bulletin of Hope

Artist Bio
Rob Greenish is a former Drama teacher and now in retirement he wears the hat of vocaliser/songwriter, musician, professional actor and Lecture re: Black History. He has released two CDS, Soul Dancing and Every Dearest Song and Iii Videos My Hometown, Soul Dancing and Wait to the Calorie-free.

Creative person Statement
I was a drama instructor with the Hamilton-Wentworth District school Board for 37 years. In my retirement, I am writing songs, making videos, and doing professional acting.

The vocal, Look to the Light is a message of Promise in times of distress and despair. I applied that song summit the video to encourage others in this time of dubiety and fearfulness over this pandemic.

I had a great deal of assist producing and performing the video from friends, family and former students form Nova Scotia, Texas, Memphis, British Columbia, Toronto, and our beloved Hamilton.

My son, Aaron, who was living in Florida at the time appears at the end of the video. Tragically his Mother passed away after the video was released, so the video was dedicated to Jacqueline Green.

Look to the light is a bulletin that we volition go through the hurting and suffering if we proceed Honey at the forefront.

Miranda Haley Kett - Citrus

Artist Bio
Miranda Haley Kett is a Graphic Designer and Screenwriter (earning diplomas in Advertising & Communications Media, Multimedia Journalism, and Screenwriting) She is also a passionate creative person whose piece of work primarily focuses on metropolis details and the surroundings, presented with contrast and pattern.

I've faced many challenges throughout my life, but the pandemic has brought new obstacles with the diagnosis of my begetter'southward end stage kidney failure/ kidney cancer and my own advanced phase breast cancer. Although a shock, these experiences have given me new insight and perspective.

 During the pandemic I've reached deep and set personal goals and have accomplishments to celebrate. I've graduated from the Screenwriting extension grade this spring at UCLA with stardom and have completed a feature picture screenplay that echoes the theme of survival. I've also been published for both my mixed media piece "Celestial" and brusque fiction piece "Citrus" in Riddle Fence magazine.  I've pushed myself and dared myself to live my life to the fullest no matter how hard things are. Struggle is nature's way of strengthening the states and with that struggle comes inspiration.

Resiliency Essay - Citrus
"Are you fix, Gemma?" she whispered. Harper threw me a playful grinning while passing the tips of her fingers over my hand similar the fly of a sparrow. I looked into her hazel eyes and gave a shy nod equally a shiver ran upwards my arm.

"I'k ready."

She had a secret. Just an hour earlier nosotros had been sitting cross-legged and barefoot, sipping orange vodka and passing a loosely rolled joint between united states beneath a white flowering dogwood. Harper ever laughed with her entire body when she was tipsy, causing her to at present spill her drink all over my right arm. She laid her head in my lap, covering her face with her hands as she tried to collect herself, her violet mascara smeared against the side of her eyelid. I high-strung back the smoke.

This life left me broken and numb. I stood in a daze when I get-go arrived back at the group home, my belongings tossed into yet some other black garbage handbag; my memories had been reduced to mere trash. I didn't want to meet anyone or anything until the moment I saw Harper. She was seventeen now and appeared like a vision of everything I wanted to be: a young woman stepping out of a Sofia Coppola movie, the personification of the dramatic female experience.

Equally much as this identify had stood stagnant in my absenteeism, two years couldn't stop the metamorphosis of a teenage daughter. It was as if Harper had secretly curled into a silk cocoon, hanging herself upside down; her delicate frame had transformed into a bright and vibrant landscape, the total curves of a scenic mount skyline blooming at dawn. The curves of which all the men now wanted to travel through, without boundaries. How could I blame them? She wanted to catch me up on all her stories: what she had washed to the older boys and what she let them practice to her. Information technology was past curfew, only we didn't care. What was there to care about? We were even so able to sneak back into the group home without anyone ever communicable us.

After final night check, we pushed our twin beds together in the heart of the room while the other girls were asleep. I yanked open up the window, letting in the buzz of the amber streetlamps and the soft light from the sky. Harper kneeled in front of me, her socks up to her knees and her light pink pilus dangling loosely in front of her face. She took me by the hand and intertwined her fingers into mine, looking up at me with longing.

I hadn't anticipated her leaning against me, taking my lips into hers so softly beneath the glow of the warm summer stars. The copse moved with an invisible magnetic force and the moon dipped down, watching our impuissant brandish – a forbidden lust. She tasted sweet and nothing similar the boys I'd kissed.

"Yous taste and then good," I purred, her warm breath on my face pushing a wave of rut throughout my body. I couldn't believe what I was doing and how much I secretly craved her. There was no ignoring information technology at present.

"Your lips are so soft. How can they be this soft?" she asked in a whisper earlier kissing me over again.

I hadn't even realized that I'd been resting my hand on her thigh every bit we laughed. Perchance that's why she kissed me. She knew I had that unmerciful desire, that uncontrollable demand to touch her. I passed my fingers through her pilus, watching it fade into a ghost blonde in the calorie-free. Her body shivered equally I passed the tip of my nose along her neck, making a trail to her ear.

Belongings my cheek against her soft face, I breathed her in similar floating smoke from pink incense. It made me dizzy. Her scent, a mixture of wildflowers dipped in dearest, a sacred witch's brew. She unlaced my shirt and laid me down softly beneath her, pressing her trunk against mine and leading me somewhere else, somewhere better. She touched every role of me, pulling down the bricks ane by one to expose my inner truth.

We left the candle burning all nighttime. The wick burned down to the base and wax spread out like an octopus on the wooden tabular array. I awoke to find her still asleep, a phoenix tattoo exposed on her back similar a map of her backbreaking journeying. We were like 2 twin flames burning in unison, she and I.

"Why do we e'er have to be so strong, Harper?" I whispered so as to not wake her.

My optics were holding back oceans. I walked over to the kitchen in a daze, pulling out a carton of orange juice and filling my glass to the brim, letting information technology overflow and baste down the sides. I closed my optics and took a sip. I was overflowing.

Cheryl-Ann Hills - An Introvert in Front of the Camera

Creative person Bio
A native of Kitchener Waterloo Cheryl has been living and working in Hamilton for over 25 years. Deeply curious almost the natural earth, Cheryl creates work that reflects her dearest of nature. Today, she spends virtually of her time creating fine art; en plein air and in her dwelling house studio.

Artist Argument - An Introvert in Forepart of the Camera
Every bit an emerging artist and a cocky professed introvert, I experienced many new challenges over the past 2 years. The pandemic created major hurdles for my art practise. I'd only begun to promote my work professionally in 2018 and these past 18 months felt like a chasm that I was unable to navigate to reach the other side. I had started to experience some growth in my art business organisation at the cease of 2019 but that came to an end as alive events were cancelled, and nosotros were told to isolate indoors. All opportunities to show my work in public spaces were cancelled. Survival style kicked in and I found myself needing to move all my buying decisions online as in-person shopping was closed. I was also forced to move my art business online.

I was lucky in that I already had a website and modest social media post-obit. Notwithstanding, I wasn't getting much engagement from either, about of the connections I made to prospective clients had come through live shows and events. For a few months I felt frozen in fourth dimension unable to go on to offer classes to my students and prove my work in person. I began to enquiry online options and decided to larn how to create workshops that I could offer to my students online. While many of my peers were offering Zoom classes I wanted to provide my students with experiences that gave them the nearly value and were suited to their own schedules. So, I developed pre-recorded workshops. The pre-recorded format provided flexibility to my students equally they could do the workshops when they had fourth dimension and they could pause/replay the workshops to increase their learning. Information technology too provided flexibility to me as I wasn't tied to a educational activity schedule and could produce workshops on my own fourth dimension.

Alone in my studio, I setup my phone equally my photographic camera and began filming myself painting and talking as if in that location were students at that place in the room with me. This setup allowed me to alleviate my social anxieties and introverted tendencies because I was able to edit the video until I was comfortable with the results. I found an online video editor that I liked and paid a subscription so I could use it without limitations. I used YouTube, Eventbrite, and my website to nowadays the workshops and I used my social media and newsletter to promote them. The fiscal benefits of my efforts were minimal. Nevertheless, the greater do good was my increased courage and self conviction that I was able to push button through my initial fears and produce work that was beingness enjoyed by others.

I also used my new cognition, confidence, and skills to motion forwards in 2020 with a special project that involved interviewing other visual artists in a park setting. The development of my web serial, "Artists in the Park" came from an idea that was sparked by watching Seinfeld's, Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. My own spin on this thought was talking to other visual artists in person who were besides going through the same things. Sharing our conversation on my YouTube channel was a wonderful experience. I have learned so much from these great artists. In 2021 I began Season 2 of this project and was able to provide more than organizational tools for both myself and the participating artists. Season One in 2020 featured 8 artists while Flavour Two in 2021 has 12 artists. At this time, this projection is completely volunteer, I am non paid financially in any mode for the work I am doing on the Artists in the Park web serial. All the same, I do this project because I dearest it; I love coming together these artists and I love sharing our conversations with others so they may acquire about art, artists and abound in their appreciation of the work that nosotros do.

Fuelled with confidence from my new video skills I decided to try something new and scary. On Feb 2nd, 2021, I took to Facebook Alive for my "7 minutes at 7 am" serial. For over a calendar month I painted live on Facebook at 7 am every weekday. This action challenged me to be my authentic self every solar day in front of an audition. I was able to double my Facebook page following in a short time.

My new skills and conviction in video-making also provided me the opportunity to participate in other online events such as the Hamilton Arts Council's "Hamilton Arts Week". During the 2020 online presentations I was able to provide live online painting events to participants across the Hamilton Area. This opportunity helped me to reach new fine art lovers and abound my following. In 2020, I had applied to a Call for Artists presented by the Metropolis of Pickering for their banner project. Unknown to me, organizer of the banner project was also looking for an artist to provide an online presentation for another upshot. They saw my art workshops on my website, and I was offered the opportunity by the Urban center of Pickering to provide pre recorded workshops for their online 2021 New Years celebrations which resulted in receiving a commission for both the artwork I created and the workshops themselves.

While I am yet an introvert, I now have more courage and accept learned new skills that have helped me to use new ways to promote my piece of work. This fall and winter I plan to revive my 7 minutes at 7am on Facebook live; probably moving it to a 7pm slot as many said it was as well early for them!  I have likewise found the courage to teach in person to larger groups and have begun didactics classes through ii expanse arts organizations in addition to my own studio.

I continue to explore my new skills in video creation, and I accept plans for more than projects that volition integrate my painting activities with video both live and recorded.  I'g grateful that my personal decision and perseverance provided me opportunities to grow and learn during hard times and I look forrad to new challenges in the coming years.

Cheryl-Ann Youtube Channel

HWDSB Programs of the Arts at Glendale - Pandemic Concert of Hope

Creative person Statement
Students from all over the city of Hamilton who attend this specialized programme created multidisciplinary arts works from home as part of their class work. They proved that young artists can achieve annihilation when motivated. Their work fuelled past people and media saying the arts in school couldn't Rising Up.

Ascent Up – A Pandemic Concert of Hope

Kelly Martin - A Broken Connectedness

Artist Bio
Kelly is a trip the light fantastic/environmental educator. She is artistically passionate virtually depicting hope for a time to come where decolonized understandings of land may heal broken connections Western order holds with the natural world. The pandemic has illuminated our interconnections - including our connection to environments. Her piece of work aims to represent this.

Stephen Almost - Militarist Haven

Artist Bio
Stephen is a playwright, author and educator living in Hamilton. He is a graduate of York Academy, the Ontario Constitute for Studies in Educational activity and the MFA Artistic Writing program at the Academy of Guelph. Stephen is co-founder of Aforementioned Boat Theatre and the Author-in-Residence at the Cotton Manufactory.

Hawk Haven past Stephen Nearly
The hawks kickoff appeared two years before the world stopped.

My daughter and I walked up the street. I picked her up from daycare. The same daycare that would shutter in March of 2020.

She spotted it first. She'due south always had an eye for nature.

"What'due south that bird, daddy?"

The single blood-red-tail was perched on the key colonnade of a debate line. So shut to the porch of an bordering house that the owners might be able to stare into the great bird's centre.

Its hooked bill was picking away at the carcass of unknown and at present unrecognizable bird. Equally strings of flesh were pulled abroad, slight tufts off feathers floated abroad from the perch and onto the nearby gravel road.

I was unprepared for its size. The silent and stoic power. As if to say to my girl and I, "yes, I grant you an audience. Gaze at my grandeur."

I pulled out my iPhone and recorded a minute of the feast.

-Does it alive hither, dad?

-Non far away, I'one thousand certain.

***

One calendar month into lockdown, the world feels cold and nevertheless but anxious and on edge. Schools are closed. Restaurants are closed. Everything is closed.

Except for grocery stores. My wife does the shopping. Venturing out while an unseen and unknown virus rips through our society. Going feels like a threat. Like taking your life into your hands.

I stay home and keep the kids occupied. Merely trying to exercise that from the within of our habitation gets harder every day. They know something is securely wrong. Rebecca knows the name coronavirus. Brenden just misses his now canceled daycare.

Belatedly April brings increasing pockets of sunshine amidst the days of grey and rain. The 2019 dual Christmas presents of AppleTV and Disney+ has transferred the childhood love of Star Wars from my wife and I to our kids. So our field trips are explorations to the nearby dog park at St. Clair Boulevard. They swing fallen tree branches like lightsabers while the massive bush in the middle of the park is a Wampa cavern. Brenden pretends to exist Kylo Ren while Becca tries her all-time British accent to exist Rey. I nod at the random quotes from the new trilogy of films. Merely I wonder when, if e'er, my married woman and I will always set foot in a multiplex.

"Dad, militarist!"

Information technology's an bending of attack from the east. A unmarried flap from loftier upwards, so the wings lock. A delta shape for minimum drag. Gravity pulls information technology steep towards an unknown target to the west.

It lets out a plaintive cry every bit it drops. I'm shocked that information technology sounds like the telephone call of seagull. But more than desperate. More aroused.

No, not angry. Focused.

It disappears behind the roof of a three story business firm. I wonder how many people live there and if any of them are ill.

Some other weep. A dark shape is silhouetted against the grey sky. The wings don't motility as information technology rides thermals. It seems to float.

-At that place's another one, Boo.

-Cool. Maybe they're a family unit.

Maybe.

***

Rebecca graduates Class iv today. It was virtual. The ceremony in her school gym replaced by a conference call over Zoom. Am I a bad parent for not making a custom mortarboard cap? Shoppers Drug Mart has since opened to the public. I could've bought a canvas of cardboard. Just I even so feel unsafe. Even with the mask.

The lord's day is dipping low in the sky. It's non likewise hot. The easy warmth of June has yet to concede to the oppressive heat of July. My daughter has since learned to ride a bike without training wheels. It happened on a Tuesday afternoon in May. 1 of the rare achievements I've been able to witness because of lockdown.

She'southward practicing on her wheel. The purple frame is stylized with images of Tinkerbell. Just the Disney Fairies Tink who's rebellious and volatile. Just like my daughter. A far cry from Peter Pan's Girl Friday.

I'm nestled on my porch, reworking a monologue from a play script I haven't touched in over a year. She spots the first one and calls for me. Again, her eyes are sharp.

"Militarist, dad!"

I bolt from the deck chair and blitz downward to the sidewalk. She's pointing to the top of our neighbour's house. Is it the same bird of prey I saw at the dog park? It's impossible to tell. Information technology sits motionless atop tiles of blackness roof. Information technology makes no sound. Only all around the angry calls of sparrows and robins. It turns its head to face them. Body still. Similar a statue.

-Is that the girl or boy, dad?

-Can't tell.

I've read that hawks are monogamous. They pick i mate. Build a nest together and render to it twelvemonth after yr.

-This is their territory.

On cue, a great shape flies overhead of the other on its perch. Bigger or simply more confident in flight. Our neighbours, who take besides gathered to stare in wonder, gasp as the second scarlet-tail casts a shadow over their lawn earlier settling on top of a phone pole adjacent to their business firm. A handful of passers by accept now stopped, besides.

-It's a hawk up there!

Rebecca dutifully guides others to where her fingers are pointing.

-They're birds of casualty.

The commencement unfolds and folds its wings. Then does it once more. Then, with two flaps, it's in the air and gliding over our heads. A bleating screech and it settles on a lower rung of the same pole as the first. Rebecca is hopping up and down.

-Can I scream dad?

-Y'all don't want to disturb them.

-You planned this. It's my graduation and yous planned this!

-I didn't program this, Boo.

-You're Mother Nature only a dad. That's what I think.

One of the hawks rears its barrel in the air and ejects a blob of stark white poop. It falls to the ground and covers a patch of grass in the same hue of the eggshell paint on my son'due south bedroom walls. Rebecca is glowing.

-Best. Twenty-four hour period. Ever.

I take her paw. Around the states, over a dozen people are smile at the sight of a hawk defecating. It's the most people I've seen in over four months.

***

Zen is dead.

Rebecca has been comfortless. I am however processing. Grief is mixed with relief. He was over 20 years old and I knew the cease was coming. I am thankful that he went now, in the summertime, when COVID cases are downward and I didn't experience paranoid about going to vet.

I'm on the porch. Rebecca is inside watching a New Zealand show about a domestic dog named Bluey. I hope it won't remind her of Zen but then, of course, but most everything probably does because he's not here.

I look out over the line of houses forth Cumberland. Behind the rooftops, the green of the Escarpment is like giant in a ghillie suit. I sometimes remember I see it breathing. Moving up and down and flush with life.

I hear the weep of the militarist. I scan the horizon and see it sally from the dumbo layers of trees along the mountainside. It flies an oblong figure eight earlier settling atop the smoke stack of the abandoned Lifesaver Mill on Burris. It cries out as a lone jay swoops in for a feeble prove of strength.

-There you are, my friend.

I should get upward and tell Rebecca. Simply the bird takes off over again and flies towards me. I jump out of the chair and blitz down to the street. Information technology arcs a flight path taking it by the pooping phone poll and past the mealtime fence mail service and settles on elevation of a small garage. I'thou withal wearing the socks from the nighttime earlier as I quickly cross the street, craning my caput to observe it.

Information technology cries out. Again and again. Looking for its mate or plant its territory.

This is my domicile. This is my haven. Keep out.

My footfalls become slower and softer. The garage is within sight. Within reach, even. And there it is. I tin finally come across this magnificent beast as close as I ever will in the wild. Reddish and brown feathers. A proud, mottled chest of white. A bright yellowish nib. And yellow optics deep set within its head.

I stand up still. Breathe in. Breathe out. The raptor unfurls its wings and so folds them again. It's virtually to take off. I want to absorb this moment. I desire to call back the strength and the stoicism of this animal. In the face of so much crunch, I want to flap my wings and cry out and be heard.

And then it flies off. Towards the Escarpment. To come across its mate.

This is my haven. This my abode.

Pip - Whatcha Gotta Practise

Artist Bio
Award winner Pip writes distinctive and melodic vocal songs with earth and jazz elements -
He has lived in and performed across South Eastern asia, Europe, and Korea.
He lives in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.

This song was written about the lockdown during the lockdown here in Hamilton.

Alex Schmaltz - A Pandemic Story

Artist Bio
Alex Schmaltz is a Canadian artist, built-in in Toronto and at present living and working in Hamilton. Her paintings and greeting cards provide a glimpse into her world; she often creates works of her favourite foods, animals and pop culture figures, as well as pieces that celebrate the beauty of womanhood.

A Pandemic Story past Alex Schmaltz
I have struggled with depression and feet for about 15 years. In the past couple of years, this has grown to include social anxiety which that has been intensified with the COVID-19 lockdowns. This is an ongoing battle I fight that is generally managed through medication and practice.

I was 9 months pregnant when the COVID-nineteen pandemic hit Canada. I was scared that my three-year-quondam daughter or my husband would get COVID, that I would become it and laissez passer it on to my baby, or that my babe would get information technology once he was born. On top of that, I had an extremely traumatic delivery with my daughter. I didn't fifty-fifty realize how much it had affected me until I was a few weeks away from giving nascence once again.

At the time, it was uncertain if you could bring a back up person with you to the hospital. Everything was irresolute so quickly that you had to phone call the hospital daily for an update. It was extremely hard to cope. I couldn't exercise and my medication only took me so far. I had plenty of baths and a couple of intense crying sessions with my husband.

I was so scared.

In the end, I was fortunate to have my husband with me - some hospitals did not allow partners in for the birth of their kid. The delivery went well, my son was born healthy, happy and nosotros went habitation the next twenty-four hours. Once home though, things didn't become much easier. Caring for a newborn brings its own anxieties and stresses. Don't get me wrong, beingness a mother is wonderful, just it is Hard. I was not getting much slumber, I was healing from my c-section, my daughter was home from daycare due to lockdown and was practically climbing the walls, and did I mention we were in the midst of a global pandemic?!

In the very petty spare fourth dimension that I had, I started painting, a hobby I hadn't had whatsoever fourth dimension for since loftier school. It became my manner to escape beingness "Mom" and to get "Alex" again. As many mothers come up to find out, maternity makes you lose a sense of who you are every bit an individual. You lot get and so wrapped upward in this tiny person who was once physically role of you that information technology becomes difficult to identify where the baby ends, and yous begin. Painting became a style for me to channel my thoughts and creativity and to create something positive from the negative. It was an outlet that I was in desperate need of. Whenever I had a spare infinitesimal, I was painting. I was churning out a pic a day, then I decided to start sharing my art online.  I am a very private person, and so this was a big footstep for me. At commencement, it was hard to put myself out there; I posted all my works under an alias to protect myself from any negative feedback. Fortunately, I was lucky to have such a positive reaction to my work. People began reaching out to me, telling me how they also used to paint or describe and how I accept inspired them to choice upwardly their brushes again.

Over a year later on, I realize that through painting I have finally constitute my vocalization. I am no longer just a female parent, a wife, daughter, sister, employee, etc. I am and so much more confident, and about important, happy. Don't become me wrong, I withal have my struggles with low and anxiety, but I accept plant a new fashion to take something ugly, scary or horrible and plough it into something that is cute of inspiring.

Dhara Shah - Pandemic Friends

Creative person Bio
I am a lensman by hobby. My name is Dhara Shah and I reside in Hamilton, Ontario. I am an immigrant to this country and I am passionate near capturing stories through my lens. I am particularly passionate about highlighting on topics of oppression & discrimination against South-Asian women.

Pandemic Friends
Similar all, I was forced by the pandemic to stay at home. It was lonely and depressing. The adjustment from being able to have a social life to beingness home isolated, has been full of challenges. Beingness an immigrant there is already some level of isolation that comes due to limited connections in the community and being abroad from family & friends. COVID-19 & the lockdowns were just the top upwards for me!

I was forced to ho-hum downward. And that made me look effectually me. When I did that, I found HOPE in the midst of loss, pandemic anxiety and global crisis! Despite all the death and sorrow that engulfed the states, I found my force in the nature effectually me. I used to expect frontward to spotter a sunrise or a dusk, listen to different bird songs and try to name them or even simply spotter tiny insects crawl on leaves! I started seeing life through the wild-life around me. I could hear the birds sing, wait for food, feed themselves, fly abroad and come back again. I could never tell if the same bird came back on my tree just days passed and seasons inverse in a global crisis and life still kept moving on.

Through the pandemic I have learnt to run across life through a different perspective. I take learnt that life is all emotions and not only one. There is joy, sorrow, life, expiry and in that what is inevitable is CHANGE.

My love for finding stories and capturing them through my lens, kept me going even in the pandemic. With the countless lockdowns in Ontario, I would take walks around my house in Binbrook. Oceans away from my family in India, while I was sick to my stomach for the safety of my family and feared constantly about not beingness able to see them if anything were to happen, I found my resilience in my art. I institute strength and promise to live through a global crunch by simply slowing downwardly and looking around in nature. Taking these pictures was my highlight of the pandemic, my story of resilience!

Dhara Shah
www.breakingstereotypes.ca

Marie Sinclair - Planting Seeds in the cracks in the facade

Creative person Bio
Marie is a Hamilton artist. Her fine art is an expression of her joy & spirituality. Her work today focuses on conveying messages of hope, gratitude, and empowerment. Through significant challenges with mental health and addiction Marie'due south affinity for creativity has always institute, fueled and healed her.

Planting Seeds in the Cracks in the Facade

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Alex Swirski - Through darkness we flower

Artist Bio
I am a public health professional by mean solar day and an creative person by night and weekend. I found my artistic voice during the pandemic equally a way to cope with working on the COVID-19 response. I currently paint from my home in Freelton, non as well far from where I grew upward.

Through Darkness We Bloom

WHOA Amusement, Dylan Vandemaele, Janessa Pudwell, Akeam Frater - The Moment Between eight and i

Creative person Bio
WHOA Entertainment is an upcoming production company interested creating works that showcase the multitude of talent that Hamilton has to offer. As a collective we look for ways to aid emerging artists in their growth through media and to collaborate with artists to support the growth of Hamilton'south arts community.

Lori Yates - From A Pocket-size Screen

Artist Bio
Singer/songwriter. Awarded & nominated for: Juno Award, Canadian Country Music Awards, Polaris Prize (longer listing), City of Hamilton Arts Honour and Hamilton Music Awards. SOCAN#1 Laurels, City of Oshawa Lifetime Achievement, NOW Mag Group of Year. Her lyrics have been immortalized in Hamilton's Gore Park.

From A Pocket-sized Screen
I was sitting on my burrow watching music icon Patti Smith sing from a small night New York studio. A bare seedling over her head, she'd forget the words to her song, apologize, and beginning over, her guitar player waiting patiently in the groundwork. She was charming and eloquent. And so shut, no gigantic phase or sound organization. It was kind of perfect. I was intrigued and inspired. "this is a great way to watch her," I idea, and i of the benefits of this lousy pandemic. It had levelled the playing field - anybody was either working from home or not working at all. I was drowning in sorrow and cocky-pity because of the "forced retirement" aspect the pandemic had bestowed on live performers. I had already closed up my vocal writing studio and wasn't sure how to adapt it. I had all the fourth dimension in the world to be creative only not ane ounce of inspiration or energy. I was dealing with grief, job loss, the death of family members, as well as the stress of the global pandemic. Some days it was a victory to get out of bed. Depression and apathy were close friends.

My teenage son Gavin urged me to do a live "online" concert. His reasoning "Come up on Mom, people want to run into y'all, hear you sing, they want to talk to you lot, they desire to meet the existent thing, non the show biz thing". He saw me moping around and was worried. He knew the fashion to my heart - get me singing.

I knew the online platform worked considering I had washed a successful show for the Hamilton Arts Quango early on on. I wasn't sure I could do i on my own from my firm.

I had a hard time wrapping my head around this medium. "Yous mean, I'm singing to that little screen on my phone"? Information technology was such a weird concept to me. I was so used to communicating with an audition in person. Shaking hands, hugging, singing with a full band in a sweaty club, old schoolhouse, that was my style. I didn't see how this was going to work. I was willing to try. I was desperate. Drastic for connection. So I set up my amp, guitar, microphone and my iPhone. I announced on Facebook that I would be going "live" on Tuesday at eight pm. Facebook made the most sense for my demographic of fans, and my style of music being original roots culling land.

I tried to be equally casual as possible while remaining professional with expert sound and lighting. I wasn't worried most making mistakes. I figured I'd let the audience "in" on everything, and have a good laugh. I'd just exist myself. I had butterflies. It was a bit like throwing a birthday political party for yourself and and then waiting to encounter if anyone showed upward! Nerve-wracking!

Then on November. 17, 2020, I launched my showtime "Isolation Broadcast" on Facebook. It was exhilarating to come across the hearts and smiley faces emojis fly upwardly the right side of the screen and to read all the groovy comments. I was shocked by how many people thanked me for performing, how much they needed this etc. Didn't they know I was doing this selfishly for my mental health, lol? About xxx people showed upwards for that initial prove. I experienced the same kind of endorphin rush every bit I would later on a alive gig. I had a neat time. I could not look to do information technology again the post-obit Tuesday.

I was besides "schooled" by my kid to never ask for money while playing, that it was just not a absurd thing to do. I agreed. So I didn't. I never will. I wanted to make sure that anyone could enjoy my show. However, I did add together a tip/donation jar that folks could use at their discretion. The fans have been very supportive!

At final count, I am upwardly to 40 shows! I've missed a week due to disease or family crunch but simply knowing that I take a gig on Tuesday night has been so helpful. A faithful community of regulars from Vancouver to Newfoundland, Texas to Australia has formed and they tune in every week to make requests, conversation with me and each other.

Ane of the biggest surprises from this whole undertaking is that I've got a whole batch of new songs that I dearest. The songs accept a positive universal theme. I would "exam drive" these songs on Tuesdays fifty-fifty if they weren't finished. That's something I never would have washed in the erstwhile days! A few of them such as Oh What a Life, and The Matador take become staples of my fix. I am at present in the process of recording them for an upcoming release.

I'm likewise much more comfortable playing as a solo creative person at present with 40 shows under my belt!

And then I guess what I've learned from all this Covid confinement is: our strength and resilience lie in our ability to suit both equally a species and especially equally artists of any ilk. We are the harbingers of change. So as nosotros run across many more live music clubs not able to survive the pandemic fallout, I proceed to urge my peers to take their work online, bc like Elvis, Drake and rocknroll...they own't going away.

Facebook LIVE Tuesdays eight pm
facebook.com/yateslori

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The Big Picture 2017

The Large Movie 2017 Report documents and summarizes the ideas of the over 70 members of the arts customs that came together for the arts forum on April 8, 2017 and those that took function in the post consequence on-line  survey. Participants reflected on the recent period of dramatic growth in Hamilton's arts and cultural community and shared their ideas for finding opportunities for farther growth and improvement.

Review The 2017 Big Picture Report (PDF, three MB)

The recommendations outlined in the report will direct the work of the ACC moving forward into 2018 and 2019.

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The AAC would like to thank the Hamilton Arts Council, a valuable community partner, that we take contracted with to assist in the planning and commitment of this event.

Photograph credit: Cees van Gemerden

rinerworegainevok.blogspot.com

Source: https://www.hamilton.ca/attractions/culture/arts-advisory-commission-big-picture

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